


Irresistible force, meet Immovable object

by sirona



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Blind Date, Love/Hate, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-08
Updated: 2012-01-08
Packaged: 2017-10-29 04:40:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/315933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirona/pseuds/sirona
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles doesn't understand how he ended up where he is, with a blind date for the New Year's Eve party and a crush on someone entirely unattainable -- or so he thinks. Modern AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Irresistible force, meet Immovable object

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pocky_slash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pocky_slash/gifts).



> Written for the secret_mutant holiday exchange on LJ.

"...And he had the temerity to insinuate that my grad students had me wrapped around their little fingers," Charles fumes, still aggravated from that afternoon's confrontation. "Just because _he_ runs his department like a military installation."

"Well, you do tend to give them much more leeway than the other professors," Raven says, fondly exasperated, as they climb the steps to Angel's flat where the New Year's Eve party is already in full swing.

"Do not," Charles grumbles sullenly just before they push through the propped-open front door and the noise increases exponentially. Inside at last, he starts the long and arduous process of unwrapping himself from the long scarf and thick winter coat he can't subsist without at this time of year.

"You do too," Raven insists, slipping out of her sleek overcoat to reveal the gorgeous blue silk dress she has chosen to welcome the new year in. "It's pointless arguing about it. Anyway, you should give it a rest already. Don't want your date to think you're a dreadful bore." Her imitation of Charles' accented drawl is unflatteringly perfect.

"Ah, yes, my _date_ ," Charles says darkly, trying not to scowl. "Remind me again what possessed me to let you arrange a bloody blind date for me, tonight of all nights?"

"You're way too agreeable when people bring you free coffee at seven in the morning," Raven smirks. "Also, I'm your favourite sister."

"You're my _only_ sister," Charles points out, declining to engage her on the other point -- because she's right, damn it, and she knows it.

"Besides," Raven throws over her shoulder as she heads for the fray, "you'll like him. He's just as obsessed with his work as you are, _and_ he's hot." She pauses just before she plunges inside the mass, sends him a kind smile. "Come on, bro, loosen up. It'll do you good to have some fun; I hardly recognise the guy from your final year of grad school anymore. You haven't gotten smashed in _months_."

Charles wants to scowl and take the high ground, but the truth is, he misses that guy, too. Even when he'd thought he'd buckle under the strain of finishing his thesis; even when he'd stopped eating and sleeping that last week from hell, he'd still felt more _alive_ than he does now -- supposedly grown-up, with a steady job and enough time to devote to whatever takes his fancy. Maybe that's why he spoils his grad students rotten (all right, fine, he can admit it to himself if he wants to); for all of Hank, Darwin and Alex's complaints and freaking out when their research is due, they still remember to be young, to live in the moment. It's been so long since Charles has felt the electric urgency of the 'now' that he has almost forgotten what it's like, to know nothing but that tiny instant of space-time, to meet someone who compels him to throw caution and rules to the wind and simply--oh.

He stops dead in his tracks, shocked understanding filtering through his mind as he remembers that afternoon's encounter all over again, the flash in Lehnsherr's eyes as he taunted and baited Charles, that curious curve to his generous mouth. Charles had forgotten a world existed outside of their argument at all--until a knock on his office door had had him starting and floundering, watching in a daze as Lehnsherr threw him one last challenging look and walked out past a startled Hank clutching his books to his chest

 _Well_. There's a swirl of warmth in his stomach, a shortness of breath that Charles had honestly thought he'd forgotten how to feel at all. A flash of heat crawls up his neck as he remembers how his blood had boiled in his veins with vexation and--something else, something he's only now beginning to recognise for what it is.

The next moment there's a hand circling his wrist, and he focuses again to see Raven watching him with a hint of worry in her face. He shakes his head, flushes a bit more at getting caught mooning over someone who probably hasn't thought of him twice since he left his office. Raven levels him a look that promises this isn't over, but lets it go for the time being, turns and pulls Charles after her as she cranes her neck to see over the crowd. The place is absolutely teeming with people in various stages of inebriation, dancing, yelling, having a blast. Charles hardly notices, still reeling from the realisation that he might just possibly fancy the pants off Erik bloody Lehnsherr, inventor extraordinaire and the Director of the Mechanical Engineering graduate program at their university.

"He should be here somewhere," Raven mutters; it takes Charles a moment to remember that she's talking about his bind date, not the person to have so thoroughly scrambled Charles' senses. God, he's going to have to make polite conversation for the rest of the night, pretend he wants to get to know whoever is waiting for him better, all the while stamping down on his inevitable distraction. This discovery could _not_ have come at a worse time.

Still, there is always time for courtesy, as Emerson would say. And maybe whoever it is that Charles is about to meet will help distract him from pointless thoughts of Lehnsherr; the man had made it quite plain that Charles' methods and professional attitude were beneath him. It _stings_ , coming as it does from someone whom Charles happens to admire immensely.

"What does he look like again?" he asks Raven innocently; she throws him a _look_ \-- Charles has been fishing ever since she told him of her and Moira's machinations. But then she shrugs-- "I suppose you'll know soon enough. Tall, light brown hair, gorgeous blue eyes -- just how you like them."

Charles narrows his eyes at her smug smirk, but he has to admit that she is entirely correct. That is, in fact, exactly how he likes them, regardless of gender. He starts looking around in earnest, for someone who fits Raven's description -- but while there are plenty of people that match it, Raven doesn't zero in on any one of them.

"He ought to be by the drinks table, that's where Moira said to look for him," Raven muses, mostly to herself, shimmying her way through the crowd until the table laden with booze is in sight.

Charles follows, trying not to get swept away in the press of people hell-bent on having a good time. A dark-skinned brunette in a stunning peacock-green dress catches his eye as he passes, winks long lashes at him and smiles invitingly; he's half-tempted to say screw it to the blind date, see if she can make him forget the uncomfortable thoughts circling his mind -- but then Raven catches his elbow again and all but drags him the last few meters across the room.

"No; no flirting with other people until you've at least seen him," she declares, mouth set in a determined line. Charles feels duly chastised -- how would he feel if his blind date couldn't even wait to meet him before taking up with someone else?

"Fine," he sighs, looking around again -- straight into a pair of piercing, pale-blue eyes narrowed in recognition.

"You!" Charles exclaims, torn between renewed aggravation and the spike of lust that goes through him at the sight of Lehnsherr, clad in a devastatingly stylish suit that hugs his broad shoulders and drapes his long, long legs to perfection.

"Well well, if it isn't the good professor," Lehnsherr murmurs, eyes flicking lazily up and down Charles' frozen frame.

"Oh, come now," Charles huffs, cheeks heating like the traitors they are -- apparently Lehnsherr _does_ remember him. "You want to talk about that again? I don't see how the way I handle my students should concern you at all."

"Wait, wait -- the guy from this afternoon was _Erik_?" Raven exclaims, voice breaking into a startled laugh.

Lehnsherr's mobile lips curve into a positively devilish smirk; he opens his mouth, eyes narrowing some more. Charles can barely stop himself from stepping closer and silencing him with his tongue.

He never finds out what Lehnsherr means to say, however, because there's Moira right behind Lehnsherr's shoulder, looking shrewdly between the two of them. "I take it you know each other?" she says tartly, throwing Charles a warning look -- which Charles thinks is vastly unfair, considering Lehnsherr started the whole thing in the first place.

He draws himself to his full height and straightens his jacket, dismissing Lehnsherr's darkly amused expression and turning resolutely to Moira, schooling his voice away from the biting retort he'd been preparing. "Yes, we happened to meet this afternoon; it's not important. My dear, you look ravishing." She does -- purple really is her colour.

Moira snorts inelegantly; Charles snaps to attention at the mischievous twinkle in her eye. "Thank you, Charles; you clean up quite nicely yourself. But don't let me monopolise your time," she adds with an arch look and a faux-innocent smile that Charles finds rather worrying -- with good cause, it seems. "I'm sure your date is more than eager to get better acquainted with you."

There really is no mistaking the direction of Moira's pointed gaze. Charles turns, slowly, to look into Lehnsherr's knowing eyes. "Oh," he blurts, far too flustered for his liking. Lehnsherr keeps _looking_ at him, like he can see all the way through, parse out all of Charles' secrets.

Lehnsherr's lips twitch and he sketches Charles a mocking half-bow. "Erik Lehnsherr, at your service," he drawls, a clear challenge in his voice; his eyes flash again, as if daring Charles to concede whatever battle brews between them.

And Charles -- Charles can't remember the last time he'd felt so _electrified_. There is something undeniably thrilling about Lehnsherr's outright invitation for Charles to do his worst. Charles' blood sings in his veins as he makes his choice; he shoves his hand forward, lets his lips relax into the delighted, provocative smile that has been clamouring to get out for the past five minutes.

"Charles Xavier. My friends call me Charles," he says, accepting the dare and issuing his own with a raised eyebrow. If Lehnsherr thinks Charles will be the one to back down first, he's got another thing coming.

"Pleased to meet, you, Charles," Lehnsherr smiles dangerously as he reaches for Charles' hand. "And it's Erik."

His warm, strong fingers curl over Charles' skin; his grip is firm, unyielding, just like the man. Charles fails to quell the excited shiver that slithers down his spine -- though he finds he couldn't care less. Whatever else this thing between them turns out to be, there's no denying that it will be magnetic.


End file.
